


Long Live the King

by piccoloh



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Magic, Strangers to Lovers, more tags to be added as i think of them in the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:33:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28125417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piccoloh/pseuds/piccoloh
Summary: Oikawa Tooru, The Great King of Aoba Johsai, has just lost a bloody war to King Ushijima of Shiratorizawa, leaving himself at the mercy of the more powerful kingdom. Iwaizumi Hajime, a former noble turned drunkard, finds himself imprisoned after a stint with a fellow drunk turns deadly. Little do these very different men know that a demand from King Ushijima to find an ancient treasure thought only to be a myth will lead them into a turbulent partnership. Forced to work together to traverse their way through Aoba Johsai, they must battle monsters, magic, and danger at every turn to reach their destination. But can this ragtag pair, along with a smug mage and a spritely shapeshifter, survive to meet their journey's end?
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. The Great King of Aoba Johsai

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! It's been a while since I've written anything, but this idea sprung into my head and I'm running with it! People might know me for my Jojo fics, but I love Haikyuu!! more than anything! I've been a fan since 2014, and I just recently dove fully back into the fandom (and I'm loving it!). IwaOi will always be my FAVORITE ship from any piece of media... ANYTHING!!! Therefore, I thought it would be nice to write a full length fic to honor them. Let's hope I can actually finish this, as I haven't written a full length fic in a while  
> (if you check my page, you can see it's mostly (basically all) oneshots. Anyways, let's get into this! As I mentioned, more tags will be added as more characters and themes are introduced. However, I added some tags that I feel will be pretty core to the story. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_ Just as the sun rises in the East, so does the Aoba Johsaian rise to any challenge. _

\- Aoba Johsaian proverb

The Great King was what they called him. No one quite knew exactly why he was called that, though. There truly wasn’t too much great about him. A great conqueror? He had just lost a war to the neighboring kingdom of Shiratorizawa that had lost him half his territory. A great warrior? He was deathly skinny and almost too weak-boned to handle a sword, though he claimed otherwise. A great politician? Seeing as the country was almost always at war with its neighboring nations, one might assume otherwise. So why did this man carry such a lofty title? There was one reason alone that his subjects could agree on. Oikawa Tooru, the Great King of Aoba Johsai, one of the three Miyagi Kingdoms, was the most charismatic man you would ever hope to meet. 

Oikawa was like no other in the way he carried himself. Confident to a fault, clever and wistful in his speech, friendly when it benefited him, and disdainful when it didn’t. No other man held himself to such a standard as The Great King. If a pedestal the height of Heaven existed, Oikawa would sit there and never leave his throne. That might have been one of the reasons why his throne was set so high above his councilmen in his royal hall. He would sit up there on the spectacular teal velvet, the crown accented with white fur and gleaming gold that had once been his father’s resting atop his head. His gowns were of the finest silk, draping elegantly onto the steps that led to his throne. He was a sight to behold, his posture regal enough to permanently set every eye on him. There was no reason for him to be liked, respected, admired even, yet his subjects could never resist his gaze. It was like that of a snake hunting its prey - sleek and refined, yet calculated and terrifying. No one could escape that look in his eyes, the snap of his fingers, the smooth honey of his words as they slid off his tongue. Anyone who came across him knew one thing - he was the King. 

Now, Oikawa’s days were generally filled with meetings of all kinds with all sorts of different people. War meetings with his generals, trade meetings with his ship captains, and sometimes even a meeting with an emissary from a neighboring kingdom. Yet that day was different. It was… quiet. Quiet for him, at least. He had nothing in particular planned other than a dinner with a few of his councilmen that night. That was barely in the distant future, though, as the sun was barely reaching its highest point in the sky. Oikawa inhaled the afternoon breeze, letting scents of the garden below his balcony pleasure his senses. He stood there overlooking the grounds of the castle for a moment, relishing in a sense of quiet that he barely ever got in a day. His mornings were usually filled with the yells of the castle nobles, the arguing of his councilmen, the clatter of dishes as servants ran in and out of the kitchen with every food offering one could even dream of. Yet that day, he had asked his closest servants to simply bring him a simple breakfast to his quarters and to leave him to enjoy the morning to himself. It was, for the lack of better words, comforting. Comforting to be alone, to feel only the warmth of the breeze outside on his cheeks and the smell of roses and tulips in his nose. Calming, calming indeed.

That calm was gone as quickly as it came when Oikawa heard a loud knocking on his door. He spun around, annoyance immediately spreading across his features. Who dared to interrupt him in his most intimate space? He knew he shouldn’t be so annoyed, but he had been craving time alone for so long that that knock had been enough to set him off completely. Rolling his eyes, he sighed.

“What? Who is it?” he snapped, walking from the balcony back into his quarters, leaning his shoulder on one of the bedposts. “This better be important.”

“It is, Your Majesty.” Oikawa recognized the voice of his highest councilman, Duke Matsukawa Issei, immediately. That was odd, very odd. Matsukawa would normally send a servant to get him if it was any average request, but Matsukawa presenting himself directly to the King was a rather rare occasion. Oikawa walked to the door, opening it up slowly and peeking his head out. There, as he expected he would, stood Matsukawa, dressed in the formal attire of nobility, though even more formal than usual. Oikawa wasn’t so sure what the occasion was to present himself in such a way, especially on what was supposed to have been a quiet day for all of them. His expression was paled, his normally droopy eyes wide and his mouth set in a terrified frown.

“What in the world is happening, Matsukawa? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Oikawa murmured, opening the door fully. Matsukawa nodded his head, breathing in deeply.

“We’ve just gotten word that King Ushijima is on his way here. He wishes to meet with you.”

Oikawa stiffened immediately. King Ushijima was the leader of the neighboring kingdom of Shiratorizawa, to whom Oikawa had just lost a quick but bloody war to. Ushijima Wakatoshi was no man to be messed with. He was emotionless and ruthless enough to be feared beyond the Miyagi Kingdoms, which was truly something to marvel at. He was unmoving in his politics and a heartless conqueror, feared by anyone who dared to cross his path. Any kingdom that stood in his way was fodder for his soldiers, who were led by the most feared general in Miyagi, Sir Tendou Satori. Oikawa feared no one… but he feared Ushijima. Just the thought of standing in front of that pillar of a man sent a shiver up his spine, so much that he visibly flinched. Matsukawa raised an eyebrow, though Oikawa regained his composure in only a split second. 

“Why is he coming? Hasn’t he already taken enough from us? Really, Matsukawa, half my territory!”

“I know, I know. I’m not sure what he’s coming for, but he said that if he doesn’t see you, there will be blood running through every street in Aoba Johsai. The messenger who brought me the news said he sounded serious,” Matsukawa murmured, letting out a sigh of defeat. Oikawa frowned, leaning his head forward. What did King Ushijima want from him? More land? More prisoners? To kill Oikawa with his own two hands? The thought of his head lifted in the air by Ushijima’s hand left him sick to his stomach. He would not go out like that, not ever. He was too proud of his country and himself to let some bastard warmonger force him to his knees in defeat. 

Pacing his room for a moment, Oikawa closed his eyes in thought. Matsukawa made no movements to stop him, understanding that that moment of contemplation was important to his king. Still, he breathed in sharply, the air he had taken in leaving his body with a choked squeak. “I don’t think he’s come for blood. If he was here to kill us, he would’ve sent Sir Tendou. That man would have this castle up in flames in barely a moment,” he murmured almost jokingly. Oikawa lifted his head, smiling softly at his councilman. Though this wasn’t a time for any sort of jokes, he appreciated Matsukawa’s attempt at some sort of dark humor. Dark as it was, these were dark times, and so it felt fitting. 

“Do you have an estimate on his arrival time?” He murmured to Matsukawa. The councilman nodded, lowering his head.

“If I were you, I would be in the royal hall as fast as possible. Dress for the occasion, Your Majesty. Hopefully, it will not be our last of the sort.” With a curt bow, Matsukawa closed the door, his frantic footsteps audible as he raced down the hall. Oikawa’s breathing had been calm when addressing Matsukawa, but now that he was gone, his breathing ran rampant. He rushed to the vanity in his room, slamming his hands down on the wood so brutally that his palms stung for a moment. The face in the mirror stared back at him, cheeks flushed and eyes wide with cruel terror. This was not the Oikawa Tooru that the world would ever see. This was not the charismatic king who held his confident stare no matter how many battles he lost. This was the king who was merely nineteen, the king who had been thrust into his throne when the same man he was about to meet with face to face had slaughtered his father in battle. This was not The Great King Oikawa Tooru. This was a boy, a mere scared boy. 

Oikawa inhaled a shaky breath, coughing as he exhaled. The face in the mirror continued to stare back at him as he stood there, his legs like jelly as he struggled to keep himself standing upright. Finally, his arms could support him no longer as he stumbled to his knees, one hand still atop the vanity. His chest shook with each breath he took as he stared at the floor, his body leaning weakly against the drawers beside him. What was he supposed to do? How could the man who was laying in a heap on the floor bring himself to present himself to the most powerful man of any kingdom? Oikawa closed his eyes, opening his mouth to steady his frantic pants of anxiety. Deep breath in, deep breath out.  _ Gather yourself,  _ he pleaded in his head, gripping the corner of the vanity and hauling himself to his feet. He still felt unsteady, but he managed to force himself to look in the mirror again as he stood. Those same frantic eyes stared back at him, though he willed them to calm to their normal wistful gaze.  _ You have no need to worry. You’re The Great King, respected in your land and beyond. Do not let some grimy dictator destroy you before he even takes a look at you. He has no power over you.  _ Telling himself lies like that was Oikawa’s little secret to confidence. Nothing could keep him down, not even King Ushijima. He was a force of nature, a god among his people. If anyone could stand up to Ushijima, it would be him. 

Without another thought, Oikawa spun around from his gaze at the mirror, walking to his closet to select his finest robes. He was both a king and a general, and so he was going to dress for both parts. He selected a silken teal tunic bejeweled with the finest diamonds and gold, accompanying it with leather trousers and boots to match, already, his confidence skyrocketed as he admired his regality in his full-length mirror. Still, it was not enough for him. His eyes trailed to a case on the other side of his room. Inside the glass, there stood a magnificent gold breastplate, engraved with laurels and flowers of all sorts. The gold exploded with sparkles of light as the noon sun splashed across it, leaving Oikawa’s eyes flashing with spots. It had been the previous King Oikawa’s breastplate, the marking of a true king of Aoba Johsai. Now, it was time for his son to take it into his own hands.

Oikawa carefully lifted the glass casing, placing it to the side of the display. His hands crept towards the gold, though he stopped right before his fingers could graze it. Was he worthy of this, to wear the King’s gold? He had barely shown himself to be a king lately. Soldiers and citizens alike had lost their lives because of his mistakes, which was something he would have to live with forever. Yet he could not fold at thoughts like those. Ushijima had destroyed his confidence once… he would not let it happen again. Taking in a deep breath, Oikawa closed his eyes, letting his fingers run across the metal, feeling the grooves of its engravings. Yes, he was the King of Aoba Johsai, and so he would wear its jewels with pride. Without a second thought, he took the breastplate in his hands, undoing the leather that held it together and slipping it over his shoulders. As he secured the leather back in place, Oikawa looked himself in the mirror, his eyes widening. He looked older, more muscular, taller even. As the gold sparkled in the sun, he felt truly like a king. He was no longer a boy scared of what the world around him would throw his way; he was a man of his kingdom who would not step down from any challenge.

Draping his finest fur-lined and embroidered cape over his shoulders, Oikawa started to walk towards the door, ready to ascend down to the royal hall to await the arrival of King Ushijima. Yet before his fingertips grazed the doorknob, he knew he was forgetting something. His eyes snapped to the vanity, where his crown sat untouched atop the wood. It gleamed in the sunlight, the many jewels that were embedded into the gold twinkling magnificently. Oikawa’s eyes softened as he walked slowly to the vanity, picking up the crown in his hands. This was the crown of his forefathers, of the great conquerors of Aoba Johsai that had come before him. This was the crown that represented the greatest kingdom in Miyagi, the greatest kingdom in the world even, and so as Oikawa lifted it up and placed it atop his head, he promised himself one thing - he would never bow to the King of Shiratorizawa. 


	2. A Drop of Liquid Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with a new chapter! It's Iwaizumi time! More to come soon, enjoy!

What was it like to give up on everything, to lose all sight of anything in one’s future? Iwaizumi knew. He had known for many years what it felt like to dread each approaching second, minute, hour, day, on and on. It was all a torturous cycle of day and night, summer and winter, spring and fall. There was no reason for him to continue to will himself to move with the tides of life, and so he let them pass over him as he floated aimlessly through the massive sea of time.

He had once been great, an impressive man: young, spritely, strong, and respected. Those days had long passed, but there was some part of him that still treasured that feeling, that feeling of being Iwaizumi Hajime, son of a count, student of the Royal Academy. Yes, he had once been in training to be one of the great generals of Aoba Johsai who would lead his kingdom into battle. He couldn’t help but laugh at that thought now. Such a lofty dream, and one that he would never achieve. Not now, not in the next life, not ever. He was a useless man and one who would rot in the next world whenever he left this one.

It was the late afternoon, the sun starting to set down on the streets of Aoba Johsai. It was summer, and so the weather was not so cold that he would be forced to seek shelter. Groaning, Iwaizumi managed to get to his feet, his legs shaking in response. The empty alcohol bottle in his hand that had once been full of drops of the only nectar that kept him going dropped from his hand, cracking on the cobblestone beside him. No use in keeping it around anymore. Iwaizumi staggered along the wall, using it to support him. His vision was still spinning, though he managed to at least keep himself upright. It was an easy task for him to ignore the stares of passersby by now. To them, he was simply a useless drunkard, and though he agreed completely with their assumption of his character, he preferred to focus on other things. That other thing at that moment, and at most moments, was his next drink. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he regained enough balance to separate himself from the support of the wall beside him. What a sad life he lived, truly disgusting.

Iwaizumi tisked, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets as he wandered the streets, watching as merchants started to pack up their stalls.  _ Shit,  _ he muttered to himself,  _ where the hell am I going to get something to drink?  _ Normally, he would either stop at the pub for a formal drink or snag a spare bottle from a distracted alcohol merchant, though that option seemed to be fading quickly from use as he watched several merchants along the street finish packing and head home. Home… that was a thing Iwaizumi hadn’t had in years. The street corners and alleyways were the only home he had known for far too long. Grumbling under his breath, he turned out his pockets, looking for at least one coin to his name. Nothing but air came out, eliciting a curse that snuck from under his breath to be quite audible. Ignoring the stares of the people on the street, he pushed his pockets back in, storming down the road. His mind was buzzing with indescribable want that almost sickened him. All he wanted, all he needed was a drop of alcohol on his tongue, enough to cool the burning feeling that raced from his stomach to the back of his throat. His heart ached with desire, a desire that couldn’t be so easily quelled without its request. 

The sky was starting to darken above him as Iwaizumi managed to stumble through the streets, his eyes adjusting slowly to the evening light. Most people were off of the streets now save for a few drunkards like himself. They too were on the hunt for an evening drink, and all seemed to be having about the same luck as he was. Iwaizumi considered himself a smarter drunk than the rest, though. Why search in the daylight when you could search where drunks were generally found? The alleyways were often filled with bottles that held at least a small amount of the precious liquid that he needed to survive. It was no matter of what quality or state it was in; if it was edible, it would satisfy him. Taking a turn off the main street, Iwaizumi found himself in a small alley that seemed to connect to another of the main streets. It was quiet, save for a few rats that scuttled off as he walked by them. His eyes scanned from right to left, looking for the twinkle of a bottle leaning against a wall, though nothing caught his attention. That was until he saw the outline of a man against the wall.

As Iwaizumi approached the man, he noticed he seemed to be either asleep or in a drunken trance, his eyes closed and his mouth open. Clutched loosely in his hand was, to Iwaizumi’s surprise, his favorite alcohol, a more expensive type. It was difficult to find, especially since he had been too low on money to afford it for a long, long time. The man was not dressed well, so Iwaizumi deduced that it was either stolen or the product of this man breaking into his meager savings. Either way, he couldn’t tear his eyes off the bottle as it rested in the man’s hand. It seemed so easy to grab, almost too easy. Desperate saliva was gathering in Iwaizumi’s mouth as his hands shook. He couldn’t stop it, the way he reached downwards, closer and closer to the bottle…

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Iwaizumi jumped backward at the scream of the man who was holding the bottle. His eyes were now open, paired with a snarling frown that set itself on his lips. Iwaizumi frowned as well, shaking his head.

“No need to get so worked up.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, kid! You’ll end up with a knife between your eyes!” the man sputtered, trying to drag himself to his feet. Iwaizumi watched the bottle in the man’s hand intently, the splash of the liquid in its container filling his ears with a harmony he so enjoyed. “Are you listening to me? I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you!” Yet Iwaizumi was not listening, and before he could even think of what the consequences of it might be, he reached forward and grabbed the bottle right from the man’s hand and started to run.

He thought his plan was foolproof, that he would be away in a few seconds with the prize of his actions. Yet what he did not account for was that the sloshing of the day’s alcohol in his stomach was not accustomed to the jostling movement of running, and it did not enjoy that feeling at all. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, Iwaizumi was on his knees, vomiting up his lunch on the cobblestones. The acid burned his throat as he hacked up as much as he could, taking in deep, horse breaths to try to calm himself. He could hear the footsteps of the man behind him, accompanied by snarling curses.

“You fucking bastard, you’re dead!” Iwaizumi pushed himself to his knees, but before he could even comprehend what was happening, the man had lunged at him, a shard of glass clutched in his hand and pointed straight at Iwaizumi’s temple. Raising his hands above his head, Iwaizumi managed to grab the man’s wrist, attempting with what little strength he had left to stop the glass from embedding itself into his forehead. His heart was throbbing with fear and anger as he struggled to push the man off. The glass shiv was growing closer and closer to him as each second passed, and he could do nothing to stop the man’s other hand from twisting itself around Iwaizumi’s neck in another attempt to harm him. Thoughts of horror and terror bubbled in his mind, forcing out every rational thought that had been flowing through his brain moments before. Iwaizumi had wanted to die for a long time, but now? Now, he wanted to live. Without another thought, he lifted his free hand, which held the bottle of alcohol and slammed it against the man’s head.

The bottle shattered on impact and the man screamed, falling into a heap on the floor as blood flowed from the grisly wound on the side of his head. No matter how still the man seemed, how unconscious his body was, Iwaizumi’s enraged brain could not trust it. He took the top of the broken bottle in his hand, taking only a moment to address its sickly sharp edges before he slammed it down onto the man’s face. A crunch sounded through his ears and blood splattered on his face. He repeated the action a few times until he couldn’t even tell where new blood was coming from. Everything was sticky with it - his hand, his face, his clothes. He could even taste it in his mouth, as metallic as licking a knife. Then, Iwaizumi was still. He did not move any longer, nor did he attempt to. He simply gripped the bottle in his hand and stayed there on his knees, the quick rise and fall of his chest being the only motion of his body. He did not cry, he did not scream, he did not speak a word. All he could do was look down at the pool of blood that was surrounding him. His head tilted back and finally, he blinked. Is this what it felt like to be truly empty? He did not know. 

It was not long before he heard footsteps behind him. Iwaizumi already knew who it was

by the loud clanking of their boots. Still, he turned his head around just as the soldiers stopped behind him, their swords pointed at his throat. He did not say a word or move an inch as he stared at them. This was it, wasn’t it? It was.

“Drop your weapon and get to your feet immediately!” one of the soldiers barked at him, and Iwaizumi did as he was told, dropping the bottle to the ground and getting to his feet. His mouth set itself in a frown as the guard shackled his hands behind him. He did not speak a word as he was led from the alleyway, not even when the soldier asked him his name or where he was from. None of that mattered now anyway. He had no worthy name, no place to call his own. He was a lost soul, now truly lost to the world. Iwaizumi hoped only one thing - that his execution would be quick and painless. Or did he deserve to feel the same excruciating pain that the man he had just killed had felt? He did not know. 


	3. The Treasure of the Wilted Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy to bring another chapter to you all. For those who have read just one chapter or those who are keeping up with the story, I value all of you more than you'll ever know. Thank you for your support! Enjoy

As Oikawa made his way down hall after hall of the castle, it felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. It was not a sensation that could be calmed, not even a bit. Despite how confident he had been before, that had melted away the second he had actually thought of the gravity of the situation at hand. King Ushijima was truly going to be standing before him in merely minutes, seconds even. What an event this would be. Oikawa attempted to swallow his nervousness, though it still seemed to sit in the back of his throat, waiting for the perfect time to strike his heart down. Still, he managed a deep breath, strutting as confidently as he could down the halls. Though he did not feel regal, he did look the part at the moment, and his confidence was lifted slightly as he watched his servants marvel at the sight of them, each bow of their heads fueling him with the poise to continue onwards. 

It was not long until he reached the royal hall, his soldiers and councilmen addressing him with deep bows. Oikawa moved to his hand to motion them to stand as they were as he strutted towards his throne, his mouth set in a frown. It was the best expression he could muster at a time like this, though it did give him a small aura of intimidation that he felt might work in his favor. As he approached the back of the room where his throne sat surrounded on each side by the seats of his noblemen, Matsukawa and Oikawa’s other closest councilman, Duke Hanamaki Takahiro, rushed to present themselves to him, both bowing in his presence. Oikawa breathed in a sigh, motioning his hand for them to stand at ease in his presence.

“This is no time to bow. What is the status of Ushijima's arrival?” he snapped, fear audible in his voice. Matsukawa and Hanamaki looked at each other, their stares filled with dread as they stared back at Oikawa. 

“He should be here at any moment. I suggest you make yourself comfortable on your throne. Even if you don’t feel confident… you’ve got to at least look the part,” Hanamaki murmured, and before Oikawa could even say another word, both his councilmen had rushed to their seats.  _ I might as well do the same,  _ Oikawa muttered to himself, climbing the steps that led to the highest point in the room, where his throne sat in front of a set of beautiful stained glass windows. The art depicted a scene of battle, where men in Aoba Johsaian colors stabbed their pikes brutally into the opposite side. One could only assume those bodies were men from the other Miyagi kingdoms, Shiratorizawa and Karasuno. Though Karasuno posed little threat at that moment to Aoba Johsai, the scene in the picture had depicted just the opposite of the previous war between Aoba Johsai and Shiratorizawa. Oikawa had heard from his generals of the bloody terror that had been besieged upon their men by the brutal warriors of Shiratorizawa. Oikawa would do everything in his power to keep that from happening again in his lifetime. 

As he seated himself on his throne, Oikawa let out a deep sigh, crossing his legs. If he was going to seem confident, he needed to look relaxed. Even though every muscle in his body was tense, he managed to lean against the back of the throne, placing his hand nonchalantly atop one of the armrests.  _ Deep breaths, Oikawa, deep breaths,  _ he repeated to himself, closing his eyes. As long as he acted like he was not scared, Ushijima would not know that he was the most terrified he’d ever been in his life. All he had to do was speak powerfully and assert himself to the other king. But could he do that? Could he bring himself up to the challenge of presenting himself to the most powerful man in the Miyagi Kingdoms? It was time for him to figure that out as he heard the sound of footsteps down the hallway.

It was only seconds later that King Ushijima stepped through the doorway to the royal hall, flanked by three guards to either side of him. He was a man of incredible build, tall and stocky enough to be quite obviously the most powerful man in the room. He was adorned by the clothes of a warrior king, his body clad in gleaming silver armor and his helm crowned with a helmet adorned in beautiful purple and white feathers. Strapped to his side was a massive sword, its chilling gleam forcing a gulp from Oikawa. But it was not any of those things that truly made Oikawa shiver. No, it was the gaze of pure rage that almost always sat upon Ushijima’s features. His eyes were ablaze with both confidence and fury that seemed to act like a flame surrounding his body, leaving Oikawa sweating under his robes. Ushijima did not stop walking until he was standing directly below the steps that led up to Oikawa’s throne. He did not bow, though Oikawa had not expected him to. He only stared up at the Aoba Johsaian king, his mouth set in a stony frown.

“Your Majesty King Oikawa, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Ushijima said drearily, his voice both monotone and deathly unnerving. Oikawa sat up straight on his throne, putting his arms to either side of him. He did not smile, though his eyes narrowed slightly.

“A pleasure to make yours as well, King Ushijima. My nobility and I welcome you to Aoba Johsai,” he almost spat, though he kept his temper in line. Ushijima narrowed his eyes, clasping his hands behind his back as he addressed the nobility with nods. They bowed their heads in his presence, scared of what may happen to them if they did not pay their respects to the warrior king. Turning back towards Oikawa, Ushijima’s gaze drilled into the King’s soul so deeply it made him want to shrivel up, though he kept his back straight and his eyes calm.

“My assumption is that you do not know why I am here.”

“You assume right,” Oikawa snarled. Ushijima nodded at that response.

“I am here to tell you just that. As you know, Shiratorizawa has just claimed the western portion of Aoba Johsai, west of the Seijou River, as Shiratorizawan territory. You recently lost a short war against us, isn’t that so?” Oikawa gritted his teeth at Ushijima’s lack of emotion as he mentioned the war.

“Yes, I remember the battle in which your warmongering general Sir Tendou slaughtered my retreating soldiers with no regard for any sort of moral law. You have a lot of nerve bringing up such an event in a room of guards whose brothers in arms were killed for sport,” Oikawa spat, leaning forward in his throne and staring down at Ushijima. The latter did not even flinch, simply continuing on as if Oikawa had not spoken. 

“Your country is weak, weaker than ever. You have barely half of the landmass of Shiratorizawa and less than half its soldiers. It would be easy for me to simply conquer the rest of Aoba Johsai in the name of Shiratorizawa.”

“So why do you come to my kingdom and threaten me in my own castle?” Oikawa could take no more. He stood up from his seat, staring down at the warrior king. Ushijima tilted his head upwards to address Oikawa, and to the latter’s surprise, some sort of twisted smile set itself on Ushijima’s face. It was not even a smile, rather an expression of such livid confidence that it was almost sickening. Ushijima knew he was more powerful than Oikawa could ever hope to be, but that was something that Oikawa needed to at least look like he refused to accept.

From Ushijima’s pocket, the man pulled a piece of folded paper, which he kept securely clasped in his hand as he spoke. “You see, King Oikawa, I have decided to take mercy on your country. That is, however, under one condition. Recently, I was made aware of something you may have heard of. Does the Treasure of the Wilted Rose strike a chord in your memory?” Oikawa knew immediately what Ushijima was referring to.

The Treasure of the Wilted Rose was something of a myth, a story told jokingly to young children at times. It was said that the treasure was hidden somewhere deep in Aoba Johsai and that whoever found it would be greeted with riches fit for a thousand kings. But not only that, it was said that within the Tomb of the Wilted Rose, where the treasures were found, grew a rose that contained but one petal left. If that petal were to be eaten, the consumer would be granted the one wish dearest to their heart. It was nothing but a child’s fairy tale, though, and so Oikawa was surprised that Ushijima was even bringing it up in conversation.

“Yes, I am aware of that, though it’s just a fairy tale. What does that have to do with anything?” Oikawa muttered, raising an eyebrow as he warily sat back down on his throne. Ushijima lifted his hand that was holding the paper, unfolding it and letting it hang open facing Oikawa. It wasn’t just a normal piece of paper - it was a map.

“After doing some pillaging in an Aoba Johsaian village, my soldiers uncovered this map from a village elder. The man claimed that it would lead the holder to the Treasure of the Wilted Rose. One of the few mages of old still left alive in Shiratorizawa confirmed to me that this map is ancient and filled with deep and powerful magic, and so I trust that it is real. However, the path this map follows is difficult, almost impossible, to traverse, and I will not put my soldiers or myself through such a journey. However, since the terrain is in Aoba Johsai, I trust you and your men are much more familiar with the landscape and would have a much easier time traversing this path,” Ushijima explained. Oikawa raised an eyebrow, tapping his fingers on an armrest.

“What are you trying to say?”

Ushijima grunted nonchalantly, lowering his arm and folding the map back up carefully. “I am saying that you yourself must go and find the treasure.”

“And what if I don’t? I trust your men are capable of finding it despite the harsh journey.” 

“If you don’t…” Ushijima stepped forward and, to Oikawa’s surprise, pointed his finger right at the king, his expression even more cold and merciless than usual. “I will besiege your lands and kill every man, woman, and child that dares to resist against my men. And you… you, I will kill myself. Your head will roll at my feet after I behead you. Just like I did your father. I will end the line of Oikawa and reign over Aoba Johsai until the end of its days. But if you bring me the treasure… I will spare you and your people.”

Oikawa wanted to scream. He wanted to run down from his throne and slice Ushijima’s head right from his shoulders. He wanted to feel blood on his face as he slaughtered each and every Shiratorizawan soldier that surrounded the warrior king. But as much as those thoughts intruded his mind and boiled his blood, he stayed calm, simply looking down at Ushijima with a stare so icy that it seemed to drop the temperature of the room. What was he to do other than say yes in a situation like this? He did not want harm to come to his people or himself, but he also did not want to do the bidding of Ushijima. Yet… yet he did not have a choice. It was either sacrifice his people or sacrifice his pride, and there was an obvious answer to that question. As much as he wanted to slaughter Ushijima where he stood, he would do the opposite and submit to the will of that horrible, horrible man.

“You have a deal. Give me the map and I will find the treasure for you. However, you must promise not to do any harm to my people while I am gone. If I hear of anything done to any citizen of Aoba Johsai by your men, I will rebuke our deal and there will be war once again between us. Am I understood?” Oikawa thundered, snarling as he stared down Ushijima. The warrior king nodded his head. 

“You have my word that no harm will come to the citizens of Aoba Johsai.”

“Good. Matsukawa, take the map from him.” Matsukawa stood from his seat and walked to the king, where Ushijima handed the map to him. Matsukawa then ascended the stairs, falling to his knees and bowing his head as he handed Oikawa the map. This was not something he would normally do, addressing the King with such respect. However, Oikawa already knew this was a calculated move on Matsukawa’s part. Despite being a member of the highest nobility, the respect he was showing towards Oikawa displayed just how much power Oikawa held over even the highest of his nobles. It was only a small gesture to boost his confidence, but it was more meaningful than Matsukawa would ever know.

As Matsukawa descended the stairs back to his seat, Oikawa opened the map, his eyes scanning over it. At the top of the map, which showed a path that spiraled through Aoba Johsaian territory, there read a line of text which caught his attention immediately. The text read:

_ To unlock the Tomb of the Wilted Rose, one must be accompanied by a group of special travelers.  _

_ A king, a prisoner, a dark mage, and a shapeshifter.  _

_ The Tomb shall not open to anyone else but this group of four.  _

Oikawa blinked in confusion as he read the text. Where was he going to find such an odd group? No matter, he had time to think about that. His most pressing matter was continuing to entertain the king who stood below him. Ushijima’s eyes were still ablaze, though he seemed to revel in the wild confusion that Oikawa quickly tried to hide from his expression. He needed to stay strong despite his concerns.

“So, you understand your job, yes? To bring me the Treasure of the Wilted Rose?” Ushijima bellowed, seeming to address the entire court of confused and fearful noblemen and soldiers. Oikawa stared unblinkingly at Ushijima for a moment before nodding his head.

“You have my word.”

“A month. That is what I am giving you before my soldiers surround your kingdom from every corner.” Without another word, Ushijima turned his back to Oikawa, clambering off down the hall and out of sight. It was almost as if he had never been there to begin with as the royal hall was left silent. Though there was no sound audible to anyone other than their own breathing, Oikawa felt like his frantic pants were loud enough to be heard by the entire hall. He rose from his throne, clutching his chest for a moment as he tried to comprehend what was happening. A month. He had a month to search for both a mythical treasure and an odd group of people to accompany him. How was any of this possible? Even if it wasn’t, he had to act like it was. For the glory of his country and his own pride, he would succeed.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki both came racing up the stairs, presenting themselves in front of the King with looks of panic-stricken fear. Oikawa let out a sigh, crossing his arms as his two closest noblemen bowed their heads in utter defeat. It seemed all of them were at a loss for words. Truly, what was there to say? They were all too confused to even start to think about what could be done about the situation at hand. 

It was Matsukawa who finally spoke. “What is our first move here?”

“Empty the castle prison and present me with each and every prisoner tomorrow morning.”

“What?”

“Do as I say. One of those prisoners will accompany me on my journey.”

“And the rest of them?” Oikawa frowned, though a fire lit up so fiercely in his eyes after a moment that it seemed to surprise even Matsukawa and Hanamaki. He began down the stairs, not even turning to address his councilmen as they stood awaiting an answer.

“There shall be only one. The rest? Execute them all.”


	4. Selection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been feeling a little unmotivated, but here's the new chapter. I hope you all enjoy this!

“Get up!” Those were the first words Iwaizumi heard as his mind clicked awake.

It was seemingly midmorning by the way the sun reflected against the bars of the window, spilling light down into the otherwise musty and grungy cell. Iwaizumi cracked his eyes open little by little, shielding his face with his hand so as to not shock himself. Standing above him was a prison guard, the man’s face filled with impatient rage. It was a surprise anyone could manage that much anger in their expression that early in the morning. “I said get up, prisoner.”

“I’m getting up. God, give me a moment…” Iwaizumi grumbled, pushing himself to his feet against the wall, seeing as his hands were shackled. Everything was still a blur from the night before, though he managed to gather his thoughts enough to reflect on everything that had transpired.

After killing the man in the alleyway, Iwaizumi had been brought by the guards to the castle prison, which was right underneath the glorious building. It was funny to think that such a grand outside of the building could be accompanied by such a dirty and disgusting underlayer. He had never been to prison before, which was something he treasured, as he couldn’t imagine staying in that hellhole for too long. It didn't matter though, as he wouldn’t be staying there for long. A guard had alerted him the night before that he would be executed within the week for murder and theft. 

He had honestly been too tired the night before to even consider the fact that he was going to die within a few moons’ time. It was hard to think about, to think that after so many years of wishing to pass on to the next life, that he would finally be doing it. What would it be like? Would it hurt? Be painless? Would he regret his actions when he had a noose around his neck and a trap door beneath his feet? He did not regret them now, that was for sure. There had been two options for him in that situation: kill or be killed, and he had chosen the better option. For a man who had wanted to die for so long, his body just hadn’t let him do what it had wanted to do. Maybe it had been a last cry for help from his tired mind, a signal to learn how to live again. Yet that was not possible now. He had learned to live only to die for it.

Iwaizumi stood in front of the guard, his head bowed and his hands shackled in front of him. The guard looked him up and down, spitting on the ground. “You look worse for wear, kid.”

“I feel worse than I look,” Iwaizumi growled, closing his eyes. He had been stripped of his bloody clothes down to his undergarments. At one point, he had been a sight to behold, his body chiseled from the strenuous training at the Royal Academy. Now, he had lost most of his muscle to alcohol, just as he had lost everything to it. Still, he thanked the Lord that it had not been cold out during the night. He very well could have frozen to death if it had been during the colder months. He would rather be hung and a thousand times over than watch his fingers turn blue and feel the heat drain from his body as he laid against the cobblestones. Maybe this was God’s final act of mercy to him. He said a silent ‘thank you’ as the guard grabbed him by the arm, leading him out of the cell. It was then that he started to question the events that were transpiring. He had no idea why he was being taken from his cell, unless it was for his execution. Still, he thought that maybe the guard would have told him beforehand so he could have prayed. From the Academy, he had learned that that was the one right that prisoners were given before their deaths - the right to pray to God once more for forgiveness. That forgiveness almost never came.

“Where are you taking me?” Iwaizumi questioned as he walked down the hall with the guard, looking around at the cells around him. Almost all of them were emptied save for one or two prisoners.  _ Odd _ , he thought, shaking his head. The guard shrugged his shoulders as they continued towards a staircase that seemed to lead to the outside. Iwaizumi remembered that staircase just slightly in his clouded memory, as he believed he had been brought down it the night before.

“Orders straight from Duke Matsukawa. We’re to gather the prisoners and bring them to the palace courtyard. All fifty or so of you are to be examined. That is all I’ve been told,” the guard muttered, opening the door to the outside. Light poured down the staircase, causing Iwaizumi to blink for a second to get accustomed to the sunshine. Until now, he had not realized just how dark the prison had been compared to the morning sun.

His eyes scanning the surrounding area, he noticed all the other prisoners already standing at the ready, surrounded by guards on each side. Many of them had very confused expressions, and so Iwaizumi inferred that the majority of them had not read into the situation and asked what was going on as he had. He felt a bit lucky to be at least somewhat informed as the guard who had led him to the courtyard placed him at the end of the line before turning to descend back down the stairs to the prison, likely to grab the last few men who had been sitting in their cells. Turning to his side, Iwaizumi scanned the crowd. It was majority men, though there were a few straggling women within the line. All the men had been stripped to their undergarments just as Iwaizumi had, and their arms were all shackled in front of them. There were men big and small, young and old, stoic or crying. It was truly a fantastic mix of every type of folk that could be found in Aoba Johsai. Iwaizumi turned himself back forward, shaking his head. If he had to describe himself at that moment, he would say he was simply and utterly confused. What was he supposed to think about this? Should he be excited? Scared? Nervous? All of the above? Nothing made sense, but he had to try to at least form an opinion on what was going on. Shutting his eyes, he sighed, tapping his foot lightly against the ground.

He had once stood in these courtyards in another light. With a wooden pike in hand, he would play fight with his classmates, laughing and cursing at each other until their instructor came to yell at them for their attitudes. He would smile and give some half-assed apology before running off to class. Day in and day out, that was the life of a student at the Royal Academy. He hadn’t been thankful enough for each of those days when he had been there. The day before he had been expelled had been the last happy day of his life. That had been three long years ago, and three years of nothing but suffering and guilt had passed since then. Three years of regret, three years of repentment, three years of failure. What was there left to care about? Had there been anything to care about to begin with? Truly, was there anything that he had left to live for?

Iwaizumi’s eyes shot open when he heard the toll of bells and the ring of a trumpet resound in his ears. All the prisoners seemed to become even more confused, murmuring amongst themselves and shuffling their feet. Iwaizumi ignored the nervous motions of the men surrounding him, keeping his eyes focused on the group of soldiers fast approaching the line of men. He noticed right away that they adorned regalia that signified they were royal guards, not the usual common folk soldiers that worked around the city. He had expected maybe a lower noble to emerge from the crowd of guards, maybe even His Grace Duke Matsukawa. Yet nothing… nothing could have prepared him for the sight that he beheld that very moment.

The group of guards parted their ranks to reveal not only Duke Matsukawa and Duke Hanamaki, but to the surprise of each and every prisoner and even the prison guards, King Oikawa stepped forward, presenting himself to the line of prisoners. Every trace of muttering that could previously have been heard among the crowd was silenced as the prisoners dropped to their hands and knees, lowering their head so they did not see one bit of the King, not even his feet. To have merely the distinct pleasure of being in the King’s presence was enough; to look at him could be seen as an overreach. Iwaizumi breathed in hard as he looked at the ground, his arms shaking. If His Majesty was there to oversee the prisoners, something big was in store. What that might be, he was not sure, but his curiosity was starting to overpower his fear of the situation at hand.

“Citizens of Aoba Johsai, I grant you the blessing of my presence today for a special occasion, and one that none of you will soon forget.” King Oikawa’s voice was haughty and confident, and though Iwaizumi might have described it as annoying, he chose to keep his mind off of impolite descriptions of his ruler. If it hadn’t been the King in their presence, he was sure that the crowd would have erupted with curious muttering. At that moment, though, the prisoners were dead silent, rolling the King’s words over in their heads. “Duke Matsukawa, you may begin.” Iwaizumi heard footsteps and the unraveling of a scroll, though he did not dare look up to see what was happening.

“At the order of His Majesty, the Great King Oikawa, all of the prisoners of the Aoba Johsai City prison are to be gathered and placed before His Majesty. One prisoner will be chosen to accompany His Majesty on a journey that will later be explained. His Majesty will inspect the physique of each prisoner and choose only one. All of you, rise - the inspection will begin now.”

Hauling himself to his feet, Iwaizumi was able to glimpse the King for longer now. Iwaizumi knew his appearance from little more than portraits and posters which lined the city streets, which was about the same as any common person. It was rare to ever be able to see the King in person and was a treat that usually only rich merchants, noblemen, and foreign emissaries were gifted. Iwaizumi noticed that the King was much less muscular in person, and he could even be described as frail. He had young features, and so Iwaizumi assumed they were about the same age. Though he was relatively tall, he did not give off any sort of intimidating aura. No, if Iwaizumi had seen him on the street in common clothing, he would have assumed that he was nothing more than a merchant’s son. Under his golden crown, he sported a full head of wavy brown hair that swept forward and almost touched his left eye. Chocolate eyes scanned the crowd, and his mouth was set in a small smile. Though his voice alone had been quite powerful, his appearance was quite average. Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows, sighing under his breath.  _ No wonder we lost a war to Shiratorizawa. This guy looks like he wouldn’t last a day on the battlefield,  _ he laughed to himself. Even though he had held back from being rude in his head before, he decided he had no issue with it now. Besides, he had no idea what was going to happen to him after the King chose a prisoner. He would probably be sent right back to his cell to rot until he was sent to the gallows. What a pleasant life, huh?

The King moved quickly through the line of prisoners, sometimes barely even glancing at them as he walked. There were a few that he stared at for a few seconds and maybe said a word or two to, though it never seemed to be anything significant. Iwaizumi swallowed hard as the King approached the man next to him, looking him up and down quickly before looking away. And then, to Iwaizumi’s surprise, King Oikawa stopped in front of him. Iwaizumi immediately bowed deeply, keeping silent. Iwaizumi watched the King’s feet, though he noticed Oikawa did not move an inch.

“You may rise.”

Iwaizumi stood up straight immediately, his expression as calm as he could manage as he looked into the eyes of the King. Oikawa looked him up and down a few times, nodding his head.

“What’s your name?”

Iwaizumi was at a loss for words. “P-Pardon, Your Majesty?” Oikawa smirked, narrowing his eyes. He didn’t seem mad, not at all. His expression was, if Iwaizumi had to guess, humored.

“Your name.”

“Iwaizumi Hajime, Your Majesty.”

“Your age?”

“Nineteen, Your Majesty.” King Oikawa laughed softly, nodding his head. 

“Oh, we’re the same age. What a coincidence.” Without another word, he turned to the next prisoner before continuing to walk on quickly until he reached the end of the line. Iwaizumi’s mouth felt like it was filled with sand as he stood in place, his eyes wide. Was he scared? No, that wasn’t it. Honestly, he felt more confident than before, but goddamn, he was surprised. What the hell had that been? What had the King seen in him? He was simply a young drunkard, nothing more. He had no special skills, and he certainly didn’t have anything special in his looks that might set him apart. But there had to have been something! Why else would King Oikawa speak to him? Honestly, Iwaizumi had thought his life was over the second he had said ‘pardon,’ but the King had apparently thought their interaction to be humorous. Thank God, because that could’ve been the end of everything.

It wasn’t long before the King returned to stand next to Duke Matsukawa, who folded up the scroll. The two spoke in hushed voices for a moment, Oikawa nonchalantly gesturing towards the prisoners at times. Iwaizumi gulped down another ball of phlegm that had formed in his throat, though it didn’t make him feel any better. Was this it? Was this the end of him? When King Oikawa stepped forward, Iwaizumi’s heart was already traveling up his throat. Should he pray? No, it was too late for that. No God could change whatever the King was going to say at that moment.

“I have chosen. Iwaizumi Hajime, please come forward.” 

Iwaizumi’s mouth dropped open as the King gestured towards him. Oikawa’s expression was truly unreadable. He didn’t seem happy or mad, simply like he was… doing business. Surely that was all this was… business. His body felt as though it was simply moving on reflex as he walked forward a few steps. The other prisoners began to mutter amongst themselves, partially surprised, partially confused, and probably mostly wondering what was to come next for the rest of them. Iwaizumi kept standing in place, his eyes meeting the King’s. Oikawa gestured to Iwaizumi to come forward, which he did again on some sort of reflex. That was then there was a cry from the crowd. Iwaizumi looked back, where an old man had also stepped forward. He looked confused and troubled, emotions that Iwaizumi knew they were all feeling at that moment.

“W-What is to happen to the rest of us, Your Majesty?” he asked shakily, immediately stepping back as the guards gave him wicked looks. Oikawa said nothing for a moment before gesturing to Iwaizumi to come forward, which he did. When he was only a few feet from the King, Oikawa spoke.

“To the gallows, all of you.”

Iwaizumi was glad he was far from the crowd as a chorus of screams and flustered movement erupted from the prisoners. He did not dare look back, knowing he would feel nothing but guilt at watching his fellow citizens realize they were going to be slaughtered. It felt odd, to be safe from it all. Should he be upset? He did not know, nor was it something that dwelled in the front of his brain as Oikawa turned to look at him. The King sniffed, turning away almost immediately as they stood there. 

“You smell like shit and alcohol. To the bath first, then we can talk,” Oikawa snapped, walking quickly to meet up with Duke Matsukawa, who was standing a few feet away. Iwaizumi didn’t move for a moment before he shook his head, breathing a heavy sigh. What the hell had he just gotten himself into?

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! I will try to update as often as possible, which will probably be every couple of days is my guess. Thank you, and please leave a Kudo if you enjoyed it!


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